Boiling Cats
A radical lady, who crosses herself at night, is secretly full of prejudice and superstition, hears that in order to be happy one should boil a black cat by night. She steals a cat and tries to boil it.
Now there are a few things wrong with this. Everyone knows you don’t boil black cats to be happy. You boil black bats. See where the problem is? That’s what you get for listening to the translation. I boil them regularly at night.
Anyways, that was all beside the point. The actual thing wrong with this is that the lady was not right in the head. Not because she boiled a cat because of a wrong piece of information she had heard from who knows where because in all reality, boiling black cats might actually make you happy so who am I to judge? No, it is for the sole reason, which inevitably led to other reasons, that she went the wrong way about getting the cat.
First of all, she stole it. Which makes sense seeing as if you go to buy a cat they could be a little expensive. Even should you try to adopt one, no sane person would willingly let you have a cat that you say you intend to boil unless they themselves have done the same thing and find those methods to be very effective in making one’s self happy with which in this case you have gotten lucky.
Therefore, the only logical alternative would be to go and try to find a stray black cat wherever she lives for it is common sense and purely logical that there be some strays wandering around in some part of the neighborhood waiting for some strange and psychotic lady to walk up to an unsuspecting stray in hopes of taking him home to be boiled for the purpose of their own sick and twisted personal joy. Yet this lady is probably a crack head. She went out and stole a cat in broad daylight.
It was a poor unsuspecting old man with a cat on his lap with hat that got attacked by the crack consumed old lady who only wanted to boil his own cat in a rack in a pot of boiling water along with anything else she might decide to throw in. Yeah… old as he was he was still a man of great vitality and chased the poor little old lady with the cat with a hat in her hand with her bag till they ran into a bush where she jumped and he died. OH MY GOSH SOMEONE DIED!
Now the cat with the hat that was holding her bag was dangling over the pot of boiling water by being hung by it’s tail with a string and stick which she held in her hand far away from the water for her fear of the heat. The cat screeches and turns and twists and cries but she holds on fast for she wished it would die. Hanging head above the water she got too cocky cause she walked by the pot and god was it hot. Why the hell do I rhyme?
The cat saw her, the heat on his whiskers. He twisted and toiled till he smacked the pot, which flew from the heat right onto the lady. She screamed and ran as the water still boiled right on her chest. The cat landed right into the flames and screamed as he was burned in the small pit of flames.
The moral of the story is simply as such. Boil for fun but burn you do not.
